Karakuri Burst (Len x Rin)
by Azusa-Yume
Summary: A retelling of the song series, Karakuri Burst to Re:Birthed


Rin's verse

Fiery insanity burned with the wake of destruction, of a relinquished past and happier memories, she didn't recall her name, little less of the fragile insignificant individuals whom she once loved. A reminiscence of tranquil green meadows under a flourishing oak tree with the ghost of a silhouette blurred from the enraged, sadistic flames that obliterated everything she knew, drowned in spiraling despair was the world splashed crimson.

Her consciousness regained on a surgical table, glaring lights burned into a single iris traced colored loops of alternating shadows. And there was immeasurable pain amidst the grotesque stench of blood, her blood, gushing from precisely sliced wounds. Her left eye was burning, vision entranced by abyssal darkness, behesting her deridingly, mocking her helplessness.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

The poor girl forsaken by God plummeted into the sweet allure of hell.

On the tip of her tongue was a familiar name, once reiterated like a deranged chant of a fallen priest seeking deliverance, now forgotten. Abandoned. She was alone, and there was only contempt in her captor's face, a sinister smirk. The woman who claimed to have saved her, repeated countlessly, merely a disposable puppet to be experimented on. Sickening indignation twisted a boiling rage in her gut each time Miku berated her, a useless project, a failed product.

She no longer knew what it was like to be human, merely an abomination birthed from hatred and misfortune, destroy... Destroy. Destroy. Destroy all that wronged her. Destroy all that was weak and frail. This ludicrous, backwards world. And something inside her finally snap, like a crystal shattering in a million pieces, her childish innocence dyed jet black resonated by sheer madness. Once benign lazuli pupils tinted vermilion with lunacy.

When the melodious cries of devastation resounded, she finally felt liberated, a growling beast inside her howled contorted satisfactions, how easy it was to kill. Humans were so fragile, so brittle. And when the trigger was pulled, beautiful camellias bloomed, terrified screetches fell deathly silent. How intoxicating, the familiar scent of metallic copper, she could almost taste its bitter and alkaline.

She had been perfected. A deadly machine capable only of murder, all shreds of humanity discarded into endless oblivions. Code name, Tsubaki, a puppet of despair birthed from monstrous greed. Her superiors couldn't be more thrilled. But she cared little of their worthless ambitions. It became fun, fun annihilating useless pests. Replaceable, replaceable creatures, from her lips was a laugh so cruel and malicious that she no longer recognized.

Blood stained coat fluttered gently in the night breeze, target was a sleepless town hidden in solemn quietude. Announcing her arrival were patient footsteps, wooden heels clicked rhythmic harmonies under the waning moon. Pearlescent glow delineated psychotic amusement flickering silver in anticipating eyes, overspilling bloodlust sliced through tension. She could sense fear and agitation overwhelming in hatred.

When the first echo of destruction resounded, sparks of sinister excitement coursed her blood, the bullet lounged comfortably in her prey. Following were sorrowful wails of a child, the second trigger pulled and that too, fell quiet. How ludicrous, a father desperately trying to defend his family unaware of their inevitable death until the last breath was stolen and was all for naught. Next was an agitated mother, lunging aimlessly, wielding an axe far too heavy for her stature. The anger and desperation turned regret and somber as death pierced bone white marrows.

Brittle, brittle, how brittle humans truly are.

"That's enough."

A voice stoic and affirming. It was different from the others, confident. A predator, someone who wasn't a stranger to killing, and it thrilled her. The mere muse of cutting down and overpowering a formidable opponent was exhilarating. Fluid motions drew fire, amplified by an unceremonious bang was a vicious bullet shot mercilessly. She doesn't hear the distasteful cold metal tearing skin. Only apprehending with visual confirmation that the figure cut it down. A Japanese sword glinting menacingly, reflecting a distorted imagery of her own face. Her grin only grew wider. What incredible reflexes.

Shadows uncast golden silk revealing a straight laced expression masking angst and hurt, a sight so similar as if upon a reflection. Atrocious scar streaked across once porcelain skin adorned by aloof indifference. She recognized his uniform, the swastika armband of the military dogs akin to those she slaughtered in the past.

He didn't fancy her much time to muse little less to notice the fine-boned elegance of his frame. A deafening strike, their weapons collided. He was tough and agile, movements honed with relentless grace and precision derived from years of meticulous training. Stronger then any counterparts she's by far encountered. Her pistol ricocheted, burnt residents of gunpowder trailed a smokey fog traced scarlet across the boy's cheek. A warning shot. Close quarter combat was not to her advantage.

Lunatic red stared into glassy blue a twisted amusement, and a scorn. There was something about his features that triggered unknown wistfulness which she didn't address. Emotions were worthless, the sole purpose of her life was to massacre, there was no other reason for her to be alive. Pitiful chess pieces played by rancorous adults, an avarice yet fulfilled.

He doesn't entertain her, ruthless attacks barraged, forcing exchanges of strikes, friction of the clashing metal sparked glowing embers between screeching iron, a belligerent song sung. She bridged over, spine curved a scrupulous arc avoiding the preceding stab that would have been her stomach, supporting body weight with a single arm, back flipped nimbly. Legs deflected the successive swing and a trigger pulled near point blank.

She won. Or that's what she assumed, inhumane reflexes sliced the incoming bullet, the sharpened tip nearly missed her torso, drawing slivers of carmine undone from her yukata.

He was exquisite, and that was when she decided, she was made for the sole purpose to end his life, to compete with him, to kill him. Her motions became aggressive, consecutive shots fired recklessly after another, deflecting incoming attacks with the back of her gun. And they were locked down, her last bullet.

The azure hue in his unveiled pupil was almost beautiful, so tragic, determined and hateful. He lost his right eye, and she her left. Both believed not of coincidences. Surely Miku had calculated this, she planned for her to meet him.

The gun on his head, exchanged for the sword across her neck, neither moved.

"If I pull this trigger. You'll be dead." She provoked.

"Before that happens, I'll slit your throat." He replied.

"My bullet or your sword, which do you think travels faster?" She threatened, fingers tightening around the trigger, in response was increasing pressure against her artery, the blade nested maliciously close to her vitals.

And there was shock, a foreign nostalgia of two children under the oak tree, a haunting recollection of fuzzy imageries, a sense of longing, guilt and melancholy. The frenzied smile disappeared, replaced by something tender and mild. She remembered now, she was once searching, searching for the lost warmth of something, someone she loved.

They were happy and carefree.

She knew he felt the same, prior scorn mellowed despondency. The weapons relaxed, and there was confusion. Fear. Until he spoke.

"Rin..."

A yearning name whispered so gently. Was that her name? No. She was Tsubaki. No. No. No. She cradled her head, unwilling to embrace the flood of memories.

They were running in a vast green field, smiling, laughing wholeheartedly, clutching a green clover ring she once cherished. 'Lets be together forever.' Voices resonated defeaning nostalgia, a conversation she once had, a promise they once made.

The orphanage painted creamy white lined bronze borders around beautiful stained glasses crumbling in enraged flames. There was screaming, children dying. And she remembered pain, a vicious slash across her left eye traced hellish burns, and suddenly she couldn't see. She was crying for a name so dearly. Len, Len, Len.

"Rin!" He called again, this time with more certainty, and she snapped. The last bullet misfired. She escaped. She needed to be away from him. She needed to destroy him, before he destroys her.

.:.:.:

* * *

Len's verse.

There were memories he was incredibly fond of, Rin's calming, amicable smile. Eventually faded like an ephemeral dream, transient like the blooming flowers of spring was the short lived happiness he once relished. They were playing hide and seek, she'd hide, and he'd seek. He recalled her cute dissatisfaction whenever he found her following a sharp accusation that he cheated. He never did, he always knew where she was, the common locations where she'll take shelter.

Many nights were spent gazing upon enchanting skies counting millions of flickering stars splattered milky silver across limitless horizons, the moon was ever so beautiful. Full and waning, similar to the mischievous spark reflected in her eyes, an enchantment, he couldn't pull away, like a moth drawn to the flame, he found himself falling, falling for this radiant existence hid a feeling more sinful, more adulterated - his sister. He finally smiled for the first time, after the death of their parents.

For their tenth birthday, he bought her a ring, curved clover embedded a glowing gem, an almost childish accessory forged a proposal, to always be together. Whimsical wishes destroyed by sin was war and machines, and Rin was taken, presumably murdered, yet he was powerless, only watching the atrocities burned everything he cared for. Devastated of his only remaining kin, his only remaining love. And this time, no matter how hard he seeked, he never found her.

He saw blood, innards of orphans his age scattered like raw trash, there was pain in his right eye, like an incessant reminder that he was pathetic and weak, that he merely watched the puppets stole everything. He learnt their name, Karakuri.

The next thing he remembered was hatred, wrath and vengeance filled the hollowed dismay, kill, kill, kill, kill all the sinners and impure. He joined the military with the sole desire to obliterate. There he met a girl, hair of golden blonde cascaded flowing locks over poised demeanor. Stark cerulean mirrored kindness and dazzling brilliance reminding him so much of Rin. Lily was both gorgeous and compassionate, and head over heels for him. But he never saw beyond the resemblance of his sister, now a forlorn memory chiseled by time, and she accepted that, she had always respected his decisions.

He once asked her, "why do you love me."

She chuckled slightly and her response sincere, "you're like a tragic hero, I guess I just want to be your heroine!"

He couldn't look at her without a sense of sorrow and guilt, a pathetic wallowing of self-pity holding onto that intrinsic despondent past. He compared her to Rin, but Rin was gone. Far too precious for his grasp. Lily was alive with so much vitality and love for the world he wished to see burn. The hateful world without Rin, the hateful world that took her away soon became numbing as he sought comfort in Lily's embrace. He could feel her heartbeat bleeding through the cotton uniform, a melodic, harmonious rhythm accompanying a gentle voice that sang him to sleep.

Len learnt to love her, not as a replacement but a person of her own.

He was assigned to a sleepless town, residents weak and weary of the war devouring the land swept away by waves of tragedy and death were the lives robbed by the bloodless puppet. He saw her for the very first time, far more unstable and frigid yet every bit lunatic and abominable as he imagined. Tsubaki, the sinner.

As their weapons interlocked, he notices the hallowed resemblance dyed ink dark by the carnage of a wailing beast. What an insult, she looked so much like her, like his beloved sister. An empty husk that discarded all shreds of humanity made desperate by the endless wash of torment reflected in her gestures. Rough, irrational and brutal. Every action was laced with sheer desire to kill, and if he didn't repay in equal enthusiasm, he'd die. He counted bullets each misfire drawing him closer to victory, she was down on her last lodged point blank by a grip mockingly tight, a bloodied finger over the cold metallic crescent threatened to end his life. He returned the kindness, and she taunted.

Even her voice was so alike, the chirpy high-pitched tone matured sultry and dangerous accompanied by deranged laughters he doesn't recognize. How tasteless and disgusting.

Her stance suddenly relaxed, crazed expression melting soft drowning him in a familiar nostalgia of a wistful oak sheltering two unkempt children, they were truly happy. Something he always dreamt about countless nights, of a memory eroded and stain by fate. He was skeptical, hesitant to call the yearning, ungodly name.

"Rin..."

A brittle whisper no louder than a pin drop. She reacted trembling, frightened and every instinct called out to him to take her in his arms. Assure her that she'd be safe contradicted so ironically by the sword on her neck.

"Rin!"

He repeated again with more certainty and tenderness, a forlorn name he'd never used in years. And it set her berserk, cradling her head with clawed hands and pupils diluted in madness.

"Stop it!" Her screams were agitated. She fled into the darkness, but he didn't stop her.

.:.:.

Lily greeted him at the headquarters, her smile ever so gentle and welcoming. She handed him a cup of coffee and offered a change of clothes. A routine she never once missed, he got used to her presence, a warmth he begin to rely on.

"I think Rin is Tsubaki." He told her solemnly, hopefully. Entertaining every possibility that she was in fact alive. His dear sister, his first love...

She took his hand and intertwined with hers, "We need to save her." Lily was persistent, truthful without a single thread of doubt for his words. "I'll go speak with Kaito!"

The first time in an extended period, he felt happy again. He finally decided that he could love Lily wholeheartedly.

.:.:.

A/n: This is something I wrote a long time ago but didn't publish it anywhere. (It's intended to be a two-chapters story depicting everything from Karakuri burst to Re:birthed, but I haven't wrote the second segment yet, and whether if I'm going to depends on the response from this I guess~ So, if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it some reviews! Hehehe~)

Disclaimer: I do not own vocaloid or any of the characters.


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